The Osborn Incident
by Victoria18Carlton
Summary: Harry Osborn/OC. Alex has been through so many first days of school in the past few years that she knows the deal by now. But when her old friend Harry Osborn sits down next to her in homeroom, she finds a refuge that she's been needing for a long time. But what is going on at Oscorp, and is Alex's curiosity going to get her, and Harry, into trouble?
1. Chapter 1

AN: I NOTICED THAT THERE WERE A DISTINCT LACK OF HARRY/OC FICS (I COULDN'T FIND ANY!) SO I DECIDED TO WRITE ONE - SEEING HOW HE'S MY ALL TIME FAVOURITE CHARACTER. I SUPPOSE THAT THIS IS AN AU OF MINE; IT'S NOT SET IN ANY MOVIE, TV OR COMIC BOOK UNIVERSE, IT'S JUST A STORY THAT I'VE WANTED TO WRITE FOR A LONG TIME. ENJOY! :)

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This won't be as bad as I think it will be. I am going to make friends. I am going to find people to sit with at lunch. I am not going to get teased for my short hair or my glasses. This will not be as bad as I am afraid it will be. Who am I kidding here? Of course it will be. It's halfway through the academic year and I am joining the senior class. Everyone will already have friends, will have people to sit with, and I am not going to be able to just slip into a clique. I can't do that. I'm just not good at it. At my last school I managed to talk to a girl in my English class (she was interested in journalism too), but then I got pulled out of that school, out of Toronto altogether, and thrust back into the chaos of New York City, and into another new school. I tried to convince my parents to let me be home-schooled, seeing as it would only have been for a few months, but my dad started yelling about how we couldn't afford it, with my brother in a private school and my sister in college. Sometimes it seems like all my dad ever does is yell. Yell at me. He knows that there's no point yelling at anyone else. If he tried mom, she would just yell back, and she'd win. If he tried Matthew, he'd interrupt his studies. If he tried Cara, she'd cry, and then he would feel guilty. So he yells at me, because I won't react. I'll stay there and take it until he's done, until his anger is gone for the time being. And then I'll leave him alone. I'll go to my room, or I'll take a walk. He won't have to deal with me. There's no point dealing with the family failure.  
The last time that he yelled was one of the worst in a long time. I sat on my bed and he screamed himself hoarse about how I was being a "little bitch" about having to leave another school. Like it was my fault that his business deal fell through two moths after we moved to Toronto. Like it was my fault that he hasn't been able to close a deal since he left Oscorp.

I try to will myself to walk through the gates of Midtown High. One foot in front of the other until I get to the administration office. That's all I have to do for now. Baby steps. "Baby steps," I whisper to myself, and I scurry through the gates. Thankfully there is a sign that points to the office so I don't have to ask anyone where it is. Once there they give me my schedule, and one of the staff leads me to my homeroom. It seems like most, if not all of the students are there already. But the teacher isn't, and it is pandemonium in the classroom.  
A couple of guys in Varsity jackets are tossing a football around, and another one, weirdly broad with buzz short blonde hair, is administering a painful looking wedgie to a skinnier kid with messy brown hair. A petite blonde girl is shouting, "Leave him alone, Flash!" at the guy with the buzz cut, while a few of the other girls in the room are shreiking about something some pop star did yesterday. The rest of the room's occupants appear to be trying to ignore what is happening around them, a few are chatting quietly, some are doing homework or reading. Only two desks don't have a bag dumped on them, and they're both right at the front, on the far right. Great. I can't slink to the back like I was hoping.  
I attempt to creep over to the furthest desk without attracting any attention to myself, but one of the formerly shrieking girls, dressed in a short green cheerleader's uniform, screams, "New kid," and the entire room goes silent. I have two options now. I can sit down and ignore everyone staring at me and hope that no-one talks to me, or I can introduce myself and get it all over with now. One glance around the room at the inquisitive eyes on me tells me that option two is the better one.  
"Um, hi," I stammer, and then I clear my throat. "I'm Alex. Alex Anderson, and I just moved back to New York from Toronto after moving around the country for two years. My dad's some kind of scientist; he's going to work at Oscorp again after a few years of trying some other stuff. Um, I have a younger brother and a sister who's in college, and I don't think I really have anything else to tell you." I smile weakly and sink into my chair. The staff member who brought me here has already left us to it.

"Why do you have your hair cut like a boy?" asks the girl who announced my arrival with a mean grin on her face.  
"I, uh," I run my hand through the back of my hair. It's not that short, it goes to just beneath my chin. "It doesn't get in the way like this. I, uh, dance, so keeping my hair short keeps it out of my face."  
"Oooh, you're a dancer?" pipes up a girl who sits at the end of my row. She smiles at me warmly, genuinely interested.  
"Yeah, just a little bit of ballet and stuff like that, nothing major. I can do a bit of gymnastics as well," I reply, feeling a little bit more comfortable already. This isn't as hard as I though it would be.  
"You know, their holding cheer try-outs at the end of the week, maybe you could be on the squad." This comes from the blonde girl who was shouting at the guy called Flash, or something equally stupid. "You know, if Liz is happy to let someone with 'boy's hair' in." She winks at me, and I can't help smiling. This girl is sticking up for me, and she doesn't even know me.  
"Whatever, Gwen, like you'd know anything about cheerleading," replies Liz, flicking her curly auburn hair over her shoulder.  
"That's true, I bow to your superior knowledge," Gwen retorts. "However, I would think that short hair would be preferable for cheerleading, given the less wind resistance."  
A girl sitting next to Liz, also wearing a cheer uniform, says, "That's actually kind of true, Liz."  
"Shut up, Sally, just because she's your lab partner." Sally sighs and looks at me and Gwen apologetically.

I turn in my chair to face the front of the classroom, and then an adult finally enters the room. "Sorry guys, the staff meeting ran late." I can tell from this simple sentence that he's one of those teachers who likes to 'connect' with his students. This is either: A) Great, he'll probably be quite kind and friendly, or B) It could also be really awkward and kind of sad. He sits down and starts to take the register. My name is first. "Miss Anderson, you must be our new student. I'm Mr Williams. Would you like to introduce yourself to the class?"  
"She already did, sir," says the boy who received the wedgie, who is sitting behind me. I turn around and give him a mouth a thank you. As I turn back to the front, I realise that the desk next to me is empty.  
"Really? Well, thank you, Mr Parker, on the ball as always." I look down at my desk, wishing that the bell could ring and I could go to my first class, where at least there'll be things for the students to concentrate on other than me. I hear the sound of someone running, and out of the corner of my eye I see a figure skid into the classroom. "Tardy. For the fifth time this month. If this happens again, you'll be in the Principle's office." The latecomer grumbles something under his breath, but Mr Williams pretends not to notice it. He slams his bag onto the desk next to me and swings into the chair. I sneak a quick look at him, and then I stare at him properly. It's like a light has been switched on in my dark room. I know him.  
"Harry?"

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AN: HOPE THAT THIS IS GOOD SO FAR. I APOLOGISE IF I GET ANYTHING WRONG ABOUT THE AMERICAN SCHOOLING SYSTEM, IT'S REALLY DIFFERENT TO THE ENGLISH ONE. I PROBABLY WON'T BE ABLE TO UPDATE EVERY WEEK, WE'RE GETTING INTO EXAM AND COURSEWORK SEASON :( REVIEWS WOULD BE SO APPRECIATED, GOOD OR BAD :)XX


	2. Chapter 2

"Harry?" I say, hoping that he will recognise me as well. He looks up, and his eyes meet mine. For a tiny second he looks puzzled, and I'm afraid that he really has forgotten me.  
"Oh my God, Alex?" I smile in relief. "Alex, is that you?"  
"Yeah, hi!" Suddenly everything is so much better. There is someone who I know here, and, more importantly, it's Harry. Harry, the reason I was so upset that we had to leave New York two years ago. Mom thought it was because I'd have to leave my dance classes. Dad thought it was because I was being purposely difficult. But it was because I had to leave my best friend behind, the only real friend that I think I've ever had. I've known Harry since I was about seven years old, when my dad was working really close with Norman Osborn, on some project or another. This was back before my dad considered me a failure – though he had already started getting irritated at my grades in math and science.

_There was one day in spring break when he had to go into work, and my mom was at the office, so he had to take me, Matthew and Cara to Oscorp with him. He managed to persuade one of the interns to take us on a tour of the building while he worked, but I got bored after half an hour, and I wandered off. I tended to do that a lot. I slipped away from the intern and ambled along a side corridor. I could hear some music coming from one of the rooms, it sounded like a cartoon theme tune. So I peaked my head around the open door frame, and I saw a boy my age sitting cross-legged on a swivel chair, watching a cartoon on a computer. I moved to stand in the doorway, wondering if I should say something. But he must have seen me because he looked over, towards the door. "Hello," he said inquisitively.  
"Hi," I replied. There was a silence, and I crept a little further into the room.  
"Who are you?" the boy asked.  
"My name's Alex, Alex Anderson."  
"Hi Alex, I'm Harry," he said with a smile. "Do you want to come watch cartoons with me?" I nodded and scampered over to him as he pulled another swivel chair in front of the computer screen. "I've never seen you here before," Harry said as I sat down.  
"My dad had to work today, he had to bring my brother and my sister and me with him because he didn't know what else to do with us."  
"Wait," Harry said, "Your last name is Anderson, right?" I nodded. "Is your dad Doctor Anderson?"  
__"Yeah."  
"I think he's working with my dad on this big project right now."  
"Who's your dad, then?"  
"Oh," Harry faltered, seeming a little embarrassed. "Um, he's Norman Osborn."  
"Wow! Your dad is the owner of Oscorp?" Harry nodded at me. "You must be like, super rich!"  
"I guess, but it kind of sucks some of the time. Not being rich, that's awesome!" I giggled. "But I don't really have any friends, and I go to a private school where everyone's sort of mean, so that's not great."  
"I could be your friend," I said with a cheeky smile. He grins at me.  
"Okay, Alex, we can be best friends." My dad chose this moment to storm through the door, grumbling about how I wandered off, but I kept smiling as he led me out of the room._

It feels longer than two years since I last saw Harry, but I feel so much happier about being at a new school if he is here as well. "Harry, what are you doing here?" When I knew him he was still at a private school, the same one that my brother has been enrolled in.  
Harry grins and says, "Ah well, private school never really agreed with me."  
"You got kicked out, didn't you?" I reply, my grin equally as wide as his is.  
He feigns offence and says, "I resent the implication!" Then he laughs and says, "Not completely, they threatened me with being kicked out if my grades didn't pick up, and me and my dad had a massive argument about it. I told him that I was happy to work at a place where I felt comfortable, and it was stupid for him to spend so much money for me to go to a school I didn't like. I guess he finally saw sense."  
"How long ago was that?"  
Harry shrugs. "I don't know, really. Not long after you left. On the subject of which, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Chicago."  
"I was," I reply with a slight grimace as I think about the last two years of my life. "I was in Chicago, and then I was in Baltimore, then Phoenix, then Vancouver and then, finally, Toronto. And now I am here. Talk about going back to the start."  
"I'm guessing your dad's attempts to start his own company haven't gone too well."  
"No, they have not." The bell rings as I finish my sentence, and there is the sound of chairs scraping and feet stamping as everyone leaves the classroom. Harry and I hang back, waiting for the stampede to thin out a little before we attempt to enter the hallway.  
"What have you got first period?" Harry asks. I pull out my schedule, and sigh in disappointment.  
"Chemistry, room 204."  
"With Professor Warren? Awesome, me too!" I smile, suddenly the concept of a chemistry lesson doesn't seem so bad.

As we walk to room 204, Harry and I continue to catch up. "So, how is your dad?" Harry asks as we climb a flight of stairs.  
"Uh..." This is a question that needs to be handled delicately. "He's, he's busy. And kind of stressed. With the whole going back to Oscorp after his, well, his flame out thing."  
"It won't be that bad," Harry replies, "My dad isn't mad about him leaving. At least, I don't think he is, we don't really talk that much."  
"Still?" Harry and his dad never seemed to have the best relationship, but Harry seems less anti-social than he was two years ago, and I thought he and his dad might be a little closer as a result.  
"Yeah, he's always working. Same old story, right?" He grabs my arm to stop me as I walk straight passed room 204. "Here we are, my lady."  
"My lady? You're still continuing that old joke?" When Harry and I were little we used to play a game where he was Thor, and I was Lady Sif. We used to fight glorious battles against the terrifying armchair or the humongous sofa, battles from which we would return tired, victorious, and hungry.  
"Of course I am, that was always my favourite game when we were kids." Harry is still smiling. I smile back.  
"Mine too."  
We walk into the classroom, and Professor Warren looks up. "Ah, Miss... Anderson, isn't it?"  
"Yes, sir."  
"Everyone is this class is already paired up, so you'll have to join an existing pair. Perhaps with Mr Osborn and his partner, seeing how you two seem to be getting along?"  
I smile and say, "Yeah, I think that'd probably be okay, if Harry doesn't mind."  
Harry hooks his arm into mine. "The more the merrier," he says as he drags me over to a lab station on the far left of the room.  
"Hey, Pete, this is Alex," he says to the brunette boy who sat behind me in homeroom. He stands up straight and extends a hand to me.  
"Hi, Alex, I'm Peter Parker."  
"Hi, Peter, nice to meet you." I shake his hand. His grip is stronger than I expected, he doesn't look particularly powerful.  
"Alex is joining us for the rest of the semester," Harry explains, "So we have our own little threesome here." I elbow him in the ribs.  
"Shut up, Harry," I say, but I can't help but laugh.

"Peter is our resident genius, and probably the only reason that I'm passing this class," Harry says as he holds his ribs in feigned pain.  
"Come on, you're not that bad," laughs Peter.  
"Trust me," I interject, "However bad Harry may be, I'll be worse. Chemistry, well, science in general is not really my thing."  
"I'm sure you'll be fine. What is 'your thing', then?" enquires Peter.  
"Do you still want to be a journalist?" Harry asks me. I'm impressed that he remembered.  
"I think so, yeah. I was going to work on the paper at my last school, but I had to leave before I got a chance."  
"Well, there's a paper here," replies Harry. He nudges Peter. "Pete's a photographer, maybe he could help you get in."  
"That'd be awesome, actually. One of our reporters, if you can call them that, just dropped out, so we have no-one to cover the game on Saturday. Interested?" Peter looks hopeful.  
"Absolutely! Although, I'm not much of a sports person."  
"That's okay, you can't be anywhere near as awful as the last guy, he barely knew what sport he was watching!" All three of us laugh, and then Professor Warren begins to instruct us on what ever we're studying that day.


	3. Chapter 3

The lesson, and the rest of the day, fly past. At lunch I sit with Harry and Peter, and the blonde girl in my homeroom, who introduces herself as Gwen Stacy. From the way they act, I get the sense that she and Peter are a couple. Harry is in three out of five of my classes, Peter is in another, and the only class where I am alone is an extra-curricular dance class, so I don't really mind. When I walk out of the school building at the end of the day, Harry is waiting for me, leaning against the flag pole. I walk a little faster when I see him. "Hey," he starts, "I was wondering if you wanted to, maybe, come back to mine. So that we can catch up properly." He seems a bit nervous, as if he's afraid I'll say no.  
"That'd be nice," I reply, and I'm not lying. It'll be really nice to spend more time with Harry, I still feel really comfortable around him, even after two years of not seeing him. Plus, it means less time spent at home, which is always good. Then a thought pops into my head. "Are you sure your dad won't mind?" I ask.  
Harry laughs. "Are you kidding? It'll be a miracle if he's even home." He's still smiling, but there's a hint of pain in his voice. "Do you need to tell your parents?  
"No, they won't mind," I reply, although what I mean is, 'They won't care.'  
"Cool. Come on, the car's over here."  
Harry leads me over to a shiny black Mercedes. "Still being ferried around then?"  
"Naturally, public transport is for suckers," he says with a wink.  
We slide into the back seat of the car, Harry after me. I expect the car to drive out of midtown, two years ago Harry lived outside the city, in a huge house, practically a manor. But instead we stay in Manhattan. We're only in the car for about five or ten minutes before we pull up outside a huge skyscraper. The Oscorp building. Harry takes my hand to help me climb out of the car, an action which, for some reason, makes me blush a little. That's never happened before. But as soon as I'm out of the car he lets go. I don't think noticed me blushing, which I'm thankful for. We cross the side-walk and enter the lobby of the building. I follow Harry over to the elevators, and he pulls a pass card from his back pack, which he swipes on a square panel next to the elevator. The doors open and we step inside. Harry presses the card against another square, activating a previously unlit button on the panel with PENTHOUSE written on it. Harry presses it and the elevator begins to move, so quickly that it feels like my stomach has dropped into my feet.

The doors open onto a large living room, very modern, with grey walls and a darker carpet. Sofas the same shade of grey as the walls form a three sided square in the centre of the room, facing a large television suspended on one of the walls. The far wall consists of one large window, looking out over the city. "So, yeah. This is my house," says Harry, trying, and failing, to sound modest.  
"Woah." Intelligent conversation appears to have deserted me. This is the fanciest and most expensive looking room that I have ever been in, and there's hardly anything in it.  
"I guess I should give you the tour. It's not really that big a place, so it shouldn't take long." We glance into the kitchen (where there is a chef!) and some smaller rooms like studies and offices. Then we come to Harry's bedroom, which seems much more comfortable, more like a real room than a show room. The walls are dark blue, and there isn't much in the room apart from a double bed, a desk, a computer, a wardrobe and a load of clothes strewn about the floor. "Dammit, I probably should have remembered to clean before I let you in here," Harry says, kicking a shirt over to the corner of the room.  
"It's fine, I'd have been seriously concerned about your mental well being if _you_ had tidied a room," I say with a giggle.  
"Whatever," replies Harry, grinning at me. "Yeah, well, that's kind of everything here. Um, do you want to see some of the labs? I'm not really sure what else to do."  
"That'd be cool, I never really got to see much of Oscorp before my dad left, he always said that it wasn't safe for kids."  
"Which is probably true."

We take the elevator to a lower floor and emerge in a spotless white laboratory. There are a few Oscorp employees working at various stations in the lab. Luckily, my father is not one of them. One or two of them glance up at us, but none of them say anything. "So, what is your dad working on?" I ask as we pass a couple of the stations.  
"I don't actually know, I've given up trying to get him to explain anything to me. He just gets irritated when I don't understand what he's talking about."  
"I know the feeling." We watch one of the employees mess around with some chemicals, combining substances until the liquid changes colour and begins to give off steam, but nothing more exciting than that happens, so we move on.  
"There's a room back here that has records of some of the things that Oscorp's worked on over the years. It's not secret or anything, and I doubt that it's very interesting, but there might be some government defence stuff, or something like that."  
"Cool," I say and I follow Harry through the lab, to the back room.  
We enter the room, and I expect it to be empty. But it isn't. Standing beside one of the computers is a tall figure in a white coat. I assume that it's just one of the employees, but then Harry sighs and says, "Hey, dad. I didn't know you were in here."  
The figure turns around and I recognise him instantly. Norman Osborn is not a man who is easily forgotten. "Harry? What are you doing here?" he asks. It is impossible to ignore the similarities between Harry and his father. They both have exactly the same facial features and hair colour. Norman is a few inches taller than Harry, but they could easily be described as identical. Aside from their eyes. Norman's are a dull green, whereas Harry's eyes are a deep, piercing shade of blue. A beautiful shade of blue.I shake the thought from my mind as Harry answers.  
"I was just showing Alex around the lab. You remember Alex Anderson, right?"  
"Hmm? Oh yes, Doctor Anderson's daughter. Are you the one studying degree level physics, or the other one?"  
I blink a few times, but managed to utter, "The other one." I don't think my irritation comes through in my tone.  
"Well, lovely to see you again, and I'd love to stop and chat," says Norman,the sarcasm only slightly evident in his voice, "But I have an awful lot of work to do." He leaves the room, not bothering to say goodbye to me or Harry.

"Well," I say, after a rather awkward silence, "He's mellowed."  
Harry raises his eyebrows in surprise. "You really think so?"  
I look at him. "No." Harry laughs, but the hint of pain is there again. "Is he always like that?"  
"Yeah, pretty much."  
"Seriously? He's never any better? Even when it's just the two of you?" I find it difficult to understand why a father would be so distant from his son,especially when neither of them has anyone else. I get it with my dad. I am a disappointment to him. That makes sense.  
"We've always been like that," replies Harry.  
"No, I know. I remember, but I thought that he might have gotten a little better as you got older."  
"If anything," sighs Harry, "He's got worse. All he ever does is work. He never goes out, not even with colleagues. He eats in his office or in his lab. I don't think he sleeps for more than, like, four or five hours a night."  
"Shouldn't you maybe talk to him about that?"  
"You first!" Harry says, and then he gestures towards the door. "There's not really anything interesting in here, we might as well go back upstairs."  
We walk back to the elevator and are back in Harry's apartment within two minutes. We sit down on one of the sofas. "What about you?" I ask. "Are you alright?"  
"I guess," Harry slouches on the sofa. "I mean, I'm worried about him, and I know he's mad that I'm flunking a couple of classes."  
"What? Which ones?" Harry's never been a genius but he's never been flunking classes before.  
"I'm getting a B minus in Math and a C in Chem Lab."  
"Dude, Bs and Cs are not flunking. I'm getting Bs and Cs," I say. He looks so miserable that I put my hand on his arm, an attempt to comfort him.  
"I know, I don't think I'm flunking. But in his eyes I might as well be." I understand it now. Harry is a disappointment to his dad as much as I am to mine.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hi everyone, hope you're enjoying the story! Updating a day early as I probably won't have internet access tomorrow, got to go to Guildford for yet another audition. Hope you enjoy, and would love any and all reviews!**_

It's getting late, and as much as I want to stay with Harry, I know I have to go home sometime. Harry offers to take me home, but I want get the subway, I need to get used to the city again. He insists on walking me down to the lobby, and before I leave he hugs me. He smells good, like, really good. A mix of detergent and some kind of cologne. "I'm really glad you're back, Alex," he says when we part.

I grin. "It's good to be back." When I leave the building I head for the nearest subway station. I wish I had some time to walk around a little, visit some of my old haunts, but I know that I'm just putting off going home. Still, I bypass the first few stations I see, heading for Times Square, just wanting a moment in the busy city I remember.  
I stand on the corner of fourty-second street and Broadway, enjoying the chaotic mix of tourists, cars, street performers and New Yorkers. Then a kid points in the air and yells, "Look mommy, Spider-man!"  
I look where he's pointing, above me, and I can't help but say, "Whoa," as the red and blue figure swings over my head, crossing from building to building with ease. I know about Spider-man of course, who doesn't? But I've never actually seen him in the flesh before. It's very impressive. He performs a mid-air somersault before he swings around the corner of fourty-fourth street. I look around the people jostling me as they walk past. Some don't even seem to have noticed Spider-man soaring above them. It's just a normal thing for them.  
It takes longer than I remember, but eventually I get back into Queen's. I walk the five blocks from the station to my house slowly, my backpack slung over one shoulder. I get to my house all too soon. I can see into the dining room through the window, and I am relieved to see that I have missed dinner. Matthew is just clearing the table. I pull open the door as quietly as possible, and attempt to get up the stairs before anyone realises I'm home. However it appears as if the elements are conspiring against me, as an unexpected gust of wind catches the door and it flies shut with a loud bang. "Alexandria? Is that you?" my mom says from the living room.

"Great," I say under my breath. "Yeah," I call back, hoping she won't say anything else.  
She doesn't, but my dad joins in. "Where have you been?" he asks, sticking his head around the door-frame. "Did you get detention already? That's impressive, even for you."  
"No, I went to a friend's."  
He scoffs. "Don't lie to me."  
I try to keep my voice as level as possible. "I'm not, you remember Harry? Harry Osborn?"  
"Osborn, as in Norman Osborn's kid. The idiot you used to hang out with?"  
"Yeah, but he's not an idiot." I fight the anger I feel towards my dad. He's only met Harry once or twice, he doesn't know anything about him.  
"He is, according to his father anyway." I know that there's no point arguing with him, so I try to head towards the kitchen. I didn't realise how hungry I was, but as I turn I hear, "Hey, don't turn your back on me, young lady."  
I spin around, mumbling an apology as I do. The silence between us is deafening, so I ask, "How was work?" This is a subject I know he'll enjoy.  
"Excellent. Mr Osborn's got me working on one of his top projects. He's a fascinating and brilliant man."  
"And I real charmer too," I think. It isn't until I see my dad's face that I realise that I said it out loud as well.  
"What?"  
Backtrack! "Um, sorry, dad, I didn't mean - "  
"I heard what you said. What the hell do you know about Norman Osborn? He's done a lot for me, and therefore for you as well. He supported my decision to leave, and welcomed me back with open arms when I returned to Oscorp. He has done so much for me and, by extension, you, so don't you dare say anything less than praiseworthy of Norman Osborn."  
I forgotten about my dad's obsession with the 'wonderful' Norman Osborn. I want to get away as quickly as I can, so I mumble, "I'm sorry, dad. It won't happen again." Then, thankfully, he steps aside and I dash up the stairs.

I escape to my bedroom and throw my backpack to the floor. I lie back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I still can't quite get over Harry being here. I smile as I think of him, it's so amazing to be with him again. But I can't help feeling that something is different between us. I always knew that Harry was handsome, but now he seems... beautiful. His eyes especially, not the dank green of his father's, but a gorgeous deep blue. He's gotten taller as well, he must be over six foot. And when he hugged me, he smelt so wonderful, and he was so warm. I laugh at myself, I'm being stupid.  
I don't have any homework to do, so I pull out my laptop and start reading old articles from the school newspaper. If I'm going to start writing for them, I should find out a bit more about the paper. There's nothing very special, aside from an article on Spider-man. Looking at the date, it seems to have been written when Spider-man first appeared. I skim the article. It doesn't contain anything more interesting than some suggestions of who Spider-man might be, ranging from Flash Thompson to various celebrities. The only thing about the article that catches my eye are the photos that accompany the article. Fantastic shots of Spider-man in action. Stopping a robbery at a convenience store, rescuing people from a burning building, even retrieving a cat from a tree. I look at the by-line. 'Photographs by Peter Parker.' Wow, he's really good! I admire the photos for a while, but then I close the window and do a quick search for Norman Osborn. I'm curious to see what project he and my dad are working on. Aside from some bio pages on him and a couple of Oscorp's websites, the first useful thing that I come across is an article by _The Daily Bugle_. 'Norman Osborn: Up to no good?'  
The article's headline intrigues me, so I click on the link. I scroll past the large photo of Norman standing in front of the Oscorp skyscraper. Below the photo is the subline, 'Strange things going on at Oscorp'. The article is written by Ben Urich, who I have heard of. He's supposed to be an amazing investigative reporter. I wonder why he's working for a paper like _The Daily Bugle_ if he's so good.

_**NORMAN OSBORN: UP TO NO GOOD?**_

_**Strange things going on at Oscorp**_

_There has long been speculation about what Oscorp actually works on. On the face of it, Oscorp is currently experimenting on different forms of renewable energy, but various groups have released various statements concerning Oscorp's lower layers. What could be hidden in the depths of the company? In a recent report by NATO, a nameless employee of Oscorp gave an interview, during which he let slip that Oscorp might be developing and supplying weapons to the United States Government. Could this be an attempt by Oscorp founder and owner, Norman Osborn, to pick up where Stark Industries (owned by lead Avenger, Tony Stark – also known as Iron Man) left off?_

I hear my dad coming up the stairs, so I quickly close the tab, shut the laptop and stash it under my bed. Luckily he doesn't come into my room. I didn't expect him to, but after what he said about Norman Osborn earlier, I definitely don't want to be caught reading negative press about him. I'm not sure what to make of the article by Urich. If the rumour came from someone within Oscorp, then it is reasonable to assume that there is some truth behind it. But then I think about all of the potential problems with this article. First, and certainly not least, it came from _The Daily Bugle_. Not exactly the most reliable news source in the city. Also, there are several reasons why the employee might have given that information in the first place. Maybe he was unhappy in his job and wanted to get back at the company by spreading false rumours. Maybe he meant what he said as a joke. Maybe his actual words were twisted by the report. Maybe he never said anything at all, and the report made it up. Or maybe, just maybe, what he said is true, and Oscorp are involved in weapons development.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Sorry that this is a little late, it's been a hectic evening! Good news: I got into the acting school I wanted to go to (East 15). YAY! If you want to leave a review as a well done, that'd be lovely (hint hint!)**_

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On Friday the school are holding try-outs for the cheerleading team. Based on Gwen's suggestion (and Harry's encouragement) I decide to have a go. In an old dance costume composed of a red and white skater dress and some sneakers – both of which are a little too small for me, the dress pinches under the arms – I line up outside of the gymnasium along with about twenty five other students. I have never done any form of cheerleading in my life, but I have done various accro dances, so I'm hoping that the skills will overlap. I'm probably in the last third of the line, so I'm waiting outside for over two hours. I don't know anyone here, so, yet again, I have no-one to talk to. Harry tried to wait with me, which was really nice of him, but I knew that he had a lot of homework to do, so I refused his offer. Now, I am regretting that decision. After another ten minutes of waiting, I am finally called in to the gymnasium. Sitting on the bleachers is the entire cheerleading team, along with Coach Collins. I give my name and wait for the music to start. I'm using the song 'Supreme', by Robbie Williams, purely because it's the last accro routine I did. I spent yesterday afternoon altering the dance so that I could do it alone, and so that it had more gymnastic elements to it. To be completely truthful I am a little worried about it. The original dance was a combination of accro and ballet, so am I used to performing it on point. I took out the sections that were on blocks and I added a couple more somersaults, handsprings and walkovers, but I think it still looks like a dance rather than a cheerleading routine. As I move I can see Coach Collins' face out of the corner of my eye. She looks suitably impressed. I get a little more confident as the song goes into the chorus, and I launch into the most complicated move. I perform three consecutive handsprings, threaded in between full turns, followed by a non-handed cartwheel and ended with a backwards somersault. But I begin to get cocky, and I throw in a mid-air split. The extra move throws off my timing, and I become pre-occupied with correcting it. I forget that I'm not supposed to go on point. I fall into a pirouette and go up onto my tip toes and, as I am not wearing my blocks, I stumble and fall.

I lie where I have fallen for about two seconds. These two seconds stretch out and feel like two decades. I haven't fallen during a routine in years. I can hear snickering from some of the cheerleaders, and outright obvious laughter from Liz Allen. I pull myself to my feet, intending to carry on with the try-out, but Coach Collins says, "Thank you, that's all we need to see." They call out the next name as I leave the gymnasium. I know that I have messed up. My too small sneakers are really hurting me now (especially after I tried to go on point) so I lean against the locker, unlace them, and take them off. I stuff the hideous sneakers into my backpack and walk out of the school in my socks. I begin to head for the nearest subway station. As much as I hate being at home, right now anywhere is preferable to here. To my surprise, Harry is leant against the hood of a shiny red car, what I think might be a Porsche. He looks like a real-life advertisement poster. He grins when he sees me. "Hey! How did the try-out go?" he shouts.  
I break into a run and practically throw myself into his arms. I haven't started crying yet, and I don't intend to, but I end up burying my face in his shoulder all the same. He puts his arms around me, holding me tight. "Sorry," I say, my voice a little bit muffled by his sweater. I'm so glad that he ignored me telling him to go home. I think I needed support more than I realised, especially now.  
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Harry says. He pulls away from me slightly so that he can see my face. "What happened in there?" he asks. "I'm assuming it did not go well."  
"No, not really," I reply sadly. "I fucked up the routine. I guess I got too confident, I tried to do some fancier moves and I threw myself off. I messed up my timing, and to top it all off, I fell over."  
"I'm sure it wasn't as bad as you think," Harry says comfortingly. His hands remain on my upper arms; he hasn't completely let go of me yet.  
"It really was. They didn't even let me finish my routine." I sigh dejectedly. "I don't know why I ever bothered trying out in the first place." I slip the backpack off my back, unintentionally forcing Harry to remove his hands. I root around in my bag as I talk. "I knew I wouldn't be good enough. I haven't had any real gymnastics training ever, plus teaching and adapting routines yourself is never a good idea."  
"Don't be ridiculous," interjects Harry. I am still trying to find my damn glasses in my bag. "I'm sure you were great. You just made one mistake. I admit that it's been a while since I've seen you dance, but you used to be amazing at stuff like that."  
"Yeah, well, apparently that has changed."  
Harry sighs and rolls his eyes. "Come with me," he says, and he takes my hand.

"Come with you where?" I ask. His hand is big and warm. And nice.  
"There's a dance studio around the back of the main school building."  
"Yeah, I know. I have dance class in there. Why are we going there?"  
"Because you are going to prove to yourself and me that you are still an awesome dancer slash gymnast," Harry replies, his voice determined.  
I make a pitiful attempt to protest, but I know there's no point. I finally find my glasses in my bag. I take them out and put them on. It's nice to be able to see again. "That is so much better," I say out loud. "I hate my stupid crappy eyesight."  
Harry turns to look at me, and he smiles. "I think you look nicer with your glasses." He pauses. "Not that you don't look lovely when you're not wearing them," he adds awkwardly. "I mean, you do. You always look great, you just look more like you with them, which is a good thing." He stops and looks down sheepishly.  
"Thanks," I say, laughing. "I think I look better with them too." I glance at Harry's face. He has gone completely scarlet.  
We come to the dance studio and Harry pushes the door. "Oh good," he says, "It's unlocked. I was a bit worried it wouldn't be."  
"Hooray," I reply, not very convincingly. I'm kind of nervous, which is ridiculous. I mean, this is Harry! He's pretty much my only friend, I shouldn't get nervous around him!  
Harry drops my hand and looks at me. "You don't have to do this if you don't really want to. There's no way I'm going to make you."  
I consider, but I eventually say, "No, it's okay. I think it'll be good for me. I want to do this." Harry grins and picks up my hand again and practically pulls me through the door. When we get inside I wave Harry over to the other side of the room. I put my glasses back into my backpack and I throw it over to him. He catches it, pretending to be knocked over by its weight. I shake my head at him, smiling. "What shall I do?" I ask him, seeing as he's my only audience.  
"I don't know," Harry replies. "Do whatever you feel like doing."  
I shrug. I begin to move, imagining music accompanying me. It's a little awkward at first, as I don't really know what I'm doing. But after about a minute I begin to fall into a routine. Once you become more confident there's a lot of freedom in improvising a dance. I move around the studio, performing layouts and turns, going to the floor in a chest roll, adding a couple of cartwheels and walkovers, even throwing in a somersault (a specialty of mine).

I almost forget about Harry until I pause during a handstand, my legs open in an upside-down split. "Wow..." Harry says, the amazement obvious in his voice. "I knew you were good, but I didn't know you were that good!"  
I laugh and say, "Thanks. It went a lot better than my try-out."  
"How long can you stay like that?" asks Harry, in reference to my handstand.  
"I don't know really. I've never experimented. Quite a while, probably." I bring my legs together to make it a proper handstand.  
"Do you think you could stay like that if I, accidentally of course, happened to tickle you?" I can hear Harry getting closer, his voice is louder even if I can't see him.  
"Oh my God, Harry, no. Don't tickle me!" I shout, but it's too late. His hands have barely touched my sides before my arms buckle, and I fall backwards with a yelp.  
Before I hit the ground I feel two strong arms come under me to break my fall. The momentum and the former position of my arms causes me to end up with my arms around Harry's neck. "Hi," he says, a huge grin on his face. He's trying not to laugh.  
"Um, hi," I repeat back at him. I can feel my face flushing red. "Uhh, thanks, I guess."  
Harry lets his laugh go. "Thanks for catching you, or thanks for tickling you?"  
"Thanks for catching me, I hate you for tickling me." We stare at each other for a few seconds.  
"Do you want to, maybe, stand up?" Harry asks, still laughing at me.  
I blush and stammer, "Yeah, of course, sorry!" I stand up, not quite as elegantly as I'd like to.  
"No problem," says Harry as he gets to his feet. He pulls my glasses out of my backpack and gently pushes them onto my face. "There you go," he says with a soft smile. He puts his hands on my shoulders and looks into my eyes. "Don't stress about the try-out too much. It doesn't really matter if you don't make the team."  
I smile back at him and say, "I know. I was just mad at myself."  
Harry chucks me under the chin and says, "Keep your head up, chick," in an incredibly patronising tone, and so I push his hand away and punch him lightly on the arm. "Come on," he says, "I'll drive you home."


	6. Chapter 6

**_Since this chapter is half the length of my normal chapters, it seemed unfair for it to be the only thing I post this week, so there will still be another update on Friday. Enjoy, and don't say I never do anything for you! :)_**

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_In the depths of Oscorp, several levels below the ground floor, Norman Osborn is experimenting. A quick glance at his digital watch tells him that is half past two in the morning. He turns back to the chemical formula on the computer screen in front of him. It is almost complete, he is sure of it. Norman takes out his cell phone and types a message: It's ready for testing. Stage one begins immediately. He is grateful that few people know that the number he texted is of a high level government official. Ben Urich's article for The Daily Bugle was buried so deeply within the paper that few people will have read it. Once his serum has been tested and perfected, it will supplied to volunteer members of the United States Army and Navy, along with special technology already created and built by Oscorp. Norman stands up and moves over the apparatus creating the serum. A vial is filled with the luminous green liquid. He removes the vial and transfers the serum into a syringe. He begins to make his way to the animal testing room, wanting to begin stage one of testing as soon as possible. But he happens to hold up the syringe, and it catches the light, the green liquid glowing. A thought crosses Norman's exceptional mind. He is more confident in this serum than he has ever been in anything. So confident in fact, that he knows that the animal testing will be a complete success. He knows that there really is no point in stage one of his testing. In fact, he might as well move on to stage two – human testing. _

_He knows exactly what this serum will do to him if he takes it himself. It will enhance his strength, his agility, his intellect, and much more as well. There will be no downside. Norman ensures that the doors to the sound-proof laboratory are locked, and that the windows onto the corridor are all blacked out. At this time of night, there should not be anyone here (aside from his son, who is asleep in the top rooms of the building), but it it would be unwise to leave the laboratory accessible. Norman moves into the centre of the lab, where there is the most empty space. He removes his white laboratory coat, followed by his suit jacket. He loosens his tie and takes that off as well. Lastly he removes his shirt, and he prepares the syringe. He jabs it into his neck and pushes the plunger down fully. For a moment, nothing happens. Nothing happens for a period long enough to worry Norman. Perhaps he is wrong. Perhaps the serum isn't going to work. But then he feels a warm sensation spread through his body, starting from the site on his neck where the needle went in. At first the sensation is almost pleasant, but then it slowly starts to burn, fire coursing through his veins and through his skin. He grunts, his teeth gritted together. The burning pain begins to subside, and Norman relaxes a little, releasing his grip on the counter. _

_Suddenly he screams in agony as what feels like a thousand tiny bombs go off under his skin. Every single inch of his body hurts him. Norman doubles up and falls to the ground, unable to stay standing any longer. The pain is too great. He continues to writhe and cry out as he feels his body changing, each strand of his DNA being manipulated and changed, so that he is no longer Norman Osborn any more. Through his clenched eyelids he can see the monster that used to haunt his childhood nightmares. The repulsive green devil that came to him each and every night. No, not a devil. A goblin. All that Norman can see as the serum flows through him is the Green Goblin._


	7. Chapter 7

Saturday rolls around quickly. And Saturday means game day. Peter stayed true to his promise to get me on the paper to cover the game. Although the spot is only conditional, I am really grateful for the opportunity. I haven't been to a lot of high school football games, but I have experienced enough to know that a crowd at a varsity game is loud, so I know that there's no point in taking my tape or video recorder. I'm better off sticking to the old fashioned tools of journalism: the notepad and pen. I toss them into my backpack and escape out of the house before anyone else is out of bed. Saturday is lazy day for the majority of my household. About half an hour later I am in Manhattan, heading for the Oscorp tower. I promised to swing by and meet Harry there so that we can sit together during the game. Peter's on photography duty, and neither of us want to end up sitting alone. Either that, or Harry really wanted to go with me specifically. I mean, I want to go with him.  
'It's not really important,' I think as I get to the Oscorp building. I text Harry that I'm here and wait for him in the lobby. The receptionist keeps glaring at me. I guess that in my dress, biker boots, green flannel shirt and my new purple lipstick, I do not look exactly like the type of person to normally visit Oscorp. Thankfully, Harry doesn't take long to come down, and he comes straight over to where I'm waiting. As soon as she realises that I'm a friend of Harry's, the receptionist's icy stare turns into an even icier forced smile. I have succeeded in convincing Harry to ride the subway like normal people, so we head for the nearest station.  
"I can't believe you talked me into this," Harry says as we walk down the steps.  
"It's good for you to experience how the other half live, Harold," I joke when we go through the turnstile. "It keeps you grounded."  
"I already go to a public high school," Harry grumbles, but he is, as always, smiling.  
"Shut up, rich boy," I tease, "We're going to be on here for less than ten minutes. It's not that bad." The first train that pulls up is crowded, but neither I nor Harry can be bothered to wait for the next one, and we're already running a little late. We squeeze onto the train, people all around us. The train starts with a jolt, and someone knocks into me, setting me off balance. I grab at Harry as I feel myself fall. He catches my hand and pulls me upright a little too forcefully, causing me to fall against him rather than some random stranger. He looks down at me, a little smirk playing on his lips. "You seem to be making a habit of this."  
I scoff. "Please, it's not as if it's intentional."  
Harry raises his eyebrows and says, "Should I be offended by that?"  
I laugh and reply, "Absolutely."

A few minutes later we fight our way off of the train and scamper up the stairs, out of the station. There are fewer people here, and I feel like I can breathe properly again. Harry checks his watch. "Dude, the game's already started, it's almost ten minutes in."  
"Crap! I can't report on a game I'm not at!"  
"We'll run, come on!" Harry and I sprint across the street and through the gates of Midtown High. I can already hear the cheering. We skirt around the side of the building and continue running to the football field. We push through the crowd gathered at the side of the pitch and attempt to squeeze into the stands, but they're completely packed. "We'll have to stand," Harry yells at me. Any quieter and I wouldn't hear him at all.  
I nod in agreement. There are a lot of people in front of us, but I can see most of the action through the gaps between people's heads. I must admit that I'm not really a football fan, but it's difficult not to get caught up in the atmosphere. We're playing a school from Brooklyn, and I get the feeling that there's a rivalry between the two schools. I take notes on the game as best I can, but I almost forget that the story is why I'm there. At half time they announce the name of the new cheerleader, and (surprise, surprise) it isn't me. But what Harry said to me last night, about it not mattering if I didn't make the team, stuck with me. I don't really care that it isn't me. The game is never really a contest, Midtown High are winning right from the start, but it is exciting nevertheless.  
I am struggling to see what can only be the final goal; everyone is leaning over that way, and my view is blocked. "Get on my back," I hear Harry say into my ear.  
"What?" I shout back.  
"Climb on my back, you'll be able to see."  
"Are you sure? Then you won't see the goal."  
"It's more important for you!" I scramble onto Harry's back as quickly as I can without hurting him. His arms grip my calves to make sure I don't fall off. Flash Thompson is only about seventy metres from the end of the pitch, and the Midtown portion of the crowd begin to cheer even louder (which I didn't think could be possible). The only member of the Brooklyn team who is even in Flash's vicinity is miles behind, but Flash still feels the need to leap forward and throw himself over the line. Ever the show off. As the buzzer sounds I whoop and cheer along with everyone else, and when the final score flashes on the scoreboard the chanting begins, led by the football team and the cheerleaders. It is far less than flattering. I laugh and slip off of Harry's back, my feet landing firmly on the ground.

As we're walking out of the school gates, Harry says to me, "You know, there's going to be an after-party at Flash's house. We can go if you want."  
I frown at him. "I thought you didn't like Flash."  
Harry chuckles. "I don't. He's quite possibly the world's biggest douche-bag. However, a party is a party, and I think I'll be able to stomach Flash if you're there."  
I raise my eyebrows and reply, "What, do you me need me to be your 'knight in shining armour'?"  
"Absolutely I do. What do you think? Do you want to go?"  
I think for a second. "If I say no, will you still go?"  
I'm not certain, but I think Harry goes slightly red. "Uh, probably not. But don't think of that as a reason to go, I'm not really bothered."  
"Let's go," I reply. "I can interview members of the team, and I've never actually been to a party before, it'll be fun. Besides, apparently you need somebody to protect you," I add with a wink. Oh my God. I winked at him. What a completely stupid thing to do! But luckily, Harry just laughs.

Flash's house is crowded. It seems as if the entire Midtown High portion of the football crowd are here, and they probably are. There is copious amounts of alcohol being consumed, and loud music plays. I know that people normally think that real parties aren't like the ones on TV, but this seems pretty accurate. I lose Harry in the crowd almost immediately. I text him that I'll find him after I've talked to the team members, and then I go on the lookout for Flash – best to get the one with the big ego out of the way first. It only takes me five minutes to find him. He's in the kitchen, downing bottles of beer. Typical. The kitchen appears to be the only empty room in the house, it having been already clear of most of the booze.  
"Hey, Flash," I say as I cross over to him. "Can I talk to you? It's for the school paper."  
Flash smirks and says, "Sure, always happy to talk to a hot chick."  
I ignore his comment, he's clearly wasted. "Great, so what was it like scoring the winning touchdown?"  
"I don't know, it's kind of getting old now," Flash replies, the stupid smirk still on his face. "It's not like anyone else is going to score it. It's always me." He's slurring his words.  
"Uh, okay," I say as I take notes.  
"The rest of the guys are great and all," Flash continues, "But I'm the one carrying the team." He belches and laughs. "That's why I'm so popular with all the ladies."  
Oh God. Is he... flirting with me? "I'm sure you are," I say warily. "So, I'm assuming you're happy with today's score?"  
"Sure am. Aren't you?"  
"Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, we won, which is good."  
"Sure is." Flash puts his hand on my arm, and I suddenly become very aware of the fact that there is no-one else in the room. "Hey, you'd look way hotter without your glasses."  
Time to go, I think. "Thanks, Flash, but I've got to go talk to some of the other team members."  
I attempt to pull away, but he holds on to my wrist. "No you don't. You could stay here."  
"Flash, Flash, let go." I pull back again, but his grip is tight. "Flash, you're hurting me." I try to push his hand off of my arm, but to no avail. Flash pushes me against the counter and leans in to me, and I act on basic instinct. I curl my hand into a fist and let it collide with his chin. I follow the punch with a knee to his stomach, and he falls backwards. "Stay the fuck away from me," I call as I run from the room.

I barge straight through the crowds in the living room and hallway and leave Flash's house. I check my phone and I find a reply from Harry. _Okay cool, I'll meet you outside in, like, ten minutes?_ I text back that I'm outside now, and I lean against a tree to wait for him. It's less than two minutes before Harry walks out of the house. "You're out quickly," he says as he approaches me. He must see that something is wrong, because he says, "Hey, are you alright?"  
"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry studies my face.  
"Is that a lie?"  
"Yes. Flash kind of hit on me." Harry's face darkens.  
"What? Flash hit on you?" "  
Well, less like hit on me, more like pushed me against a counter and tried to kiss me." Harry turns on his heel and marches back towards the house. "Hold on, Harry, where are you going?"  
"I'm going to kill him."  
"What?! Harry, wait, nothing happened, he didn't hurt me. Well, aside from my hand hurting after I punched him."  
Harry pauses. "You hit him?"  
"Yeah. I kicked him in the stomach as well." He turns back to me. He looks impressed. "You are awesome. Do you know how awesome you are?"  
"Of course I do. Essays have been written on my levels of awesomeness."  
Harry laughs and grins. "Can I walk you home?" he asks, almost apprehensively.  
"That's be nice."


	8. Chapter 8

"You shouldn't have to take the subway everywhere," Harry says as we walk. "You need a car, I should buy you a car. Hey, what's your favourite colour?"  
I'm only half listening to him. There's something in the sky, about two or three blocks away. It's too low to be a plane, but too high to be Spider-man. "What's that?" I ask.  
"It's a shameless display of my bottomless wealth."  
"Not that!" I turn his head so that he's looking in the right place. "That."  
Harry looks, squinting to try and see it better. "I don't know, it's probably like a balloon or something."  
"Yeah, it's probably nothing." Whatever the thing is, it's leaving a trail of black smoke, so it's something mechanical. As it flies overhead – still too high for me to see clearly – I could swear that there's a person riding it.

As soon as I get home I start work on my article. I promised the editor of the school paper that I would have it ready for Monday's edition, meaning that I really need to email it to her tomorrow night. My notes on the game are pretty solid, and I have some interesting commentary from Flash Thompson to say the least. I write and write until I can't keep my eyes open any longer, but after I've shut my laptop down, stashed it under my bed, changed into my pyjamas and clambered into bed, I find that I can't sleep. I lie under the sheets, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Harry got really protective over me when I told him about Flash coming on to me. He was fully ready to go and, in his own words, 'kill him' for hurting me. And he wanted me to come to the party with him. And he asked me to the game. And he wanted to walk me home. Does Harry... like me? I think I like him. In fact, I know that I like him. Things have changed between us since I left two years ago. All this week, whenever I've been with Harry I've felt happy. Like I don't care about my parents or my grades or anything else if he's there. I think about how thrilled he was when he recognised me in homeroom on my first day. I think about how beautiful he is, with his dark hair, bright blue eyes and his wonderful grin. I think about how he's so much taller than me, even though I'm fairly tall myself. I think about how nice he smells and how warm he was when he hugged me. I think about how firm his back was when he insisted I climb on to see the game. That was really nice of him. I think about how good he makes me feel about myself. I fall asleep slowly, still thinking about Harry.

During homeroom on Monday, Harry, Peter and Gwen are all reading a copy of the paper. "I don't think the photos were as good as they could have been," I overhear Peter say as I sit down.  
"Oh God, are you guys looking at the article?" I say. "Is it awful?"  
"Are you kidding?" says Gwen. "It's good, like really good. So much better than the last guy's stories. You actually talk about what happened during the game."  
I smile in thanks. "Well, that's good news, 'cause they offered me a permanent spot on the paper!"  
Peter cheers, earning him a look from Mr Williams. Gwen congratulates me. But it's Harry's reaction that is the best. He simply leans back in his chair, his feet on the desk, grins stupidly and says, "Of course they did. I'd have been seriously annoyed if they hadn't."  
"Mr Osborn, if you wish to keep your feet, please remove them from the desk," interrupts Mr Williams.  
Harry sighs and swings his feet back underneath his desk. "Well, it's not completely a permanent spot yet," I continue, "I have to write some kind of 'investigative' story in order to actually get on to the paper staff. They want to see what else I can write."  
"What are you going to investigate?" Peter asks.  
"I don't know, I haven't decided yet," I reply. "I'm going to look into some articles from other papers, I think. See what is going on that I can check out." This is not exactly the whole truth. I am going to look into something based on an article I read. But I do not need to find the original article. I've been thinking about the Urich article on Oscorp for the last week. I am in a good position to find some information on Oscorp. I can look through my dad's notes (if I'm careful) and I can ask Harry. I fully intend to tell Harry what I want to do, I'm sure that he won't mind, but I don't think that I should discuss it in front of Peter and Gwen. It might be a bit of a sore subject, with it being about Harry's dad's company.

During our lunch period I manage to get Harry alone just before he enters the cafeteria line. "Hey, Harry. Can I talk to you?" I say as he picks up his tray.  
"Yeah, sure," he replies. "Better hurry up though, it's hot dog day."  
I frown at him. "Really? Is 'hot dog day' really that important to you?" I say sarcastically.  
He laughs. "Of course it isn't. Let's go to the football field. There aren't usually too many people in the bleachers at lunchtime." We ditch the cafeteria and head to the football field. It is far less crowded than it was on Saturday; there is hardly anybody here. "Shoot," Harry says once we have sat down.  
"Okay," I start, "I feel like I should lead with: don't hate me for this."  
Harry's brow furrows. "Wait, what on Earth would I hate you for?"  
I sigh. "I have an idea of what to do for my article. You know, for the paper?"  
"Yeah, I remember. Did you find something to look into?"  
"Well, yes, I did. But I'm a little worried about it. Please don't be mad at me, I won't do it if you don't want me to," I respond whilst picking at my already chipped nail polish.  
Harry covers my hands with his to make me stop. "Alex, you're just stalling now. What is it? Is it something to do with Oscorp?"  
"Dammit, you're good," I say with a little smile.  
Harry looks away from me and replies, "It's the _Bugle _article, isn't it?" He hasn't let go of my hands. "Are you going to pick up on Ben Urich's story?"  
"I'd like to," I say apologetically. "Is that okay? I really mean it when I say that I won't do anything with it if you're not cool with it."

Harry turns back to me. "I think it's a great idea," he says, seeming completely sincere.  
"Are you sure?" I ask. I don't want to do anything that might ruin or jeopardise mine and Harry's relationship.  
"Completely," Harry replies, his lovely smile back on his face. Then the smile wavers. "You should look into Oscorp," he continues, "Because I think that Urich might be right. I mean, I told you about he government defence stuff that was in the records. Plus," Harry pauses, his smile completely gone now. He looks worried. "Plus my dad's been acting really weird over the last few days."  
I frown. "Weirder than usual?"  
"Ha!" A forced laugh passes Harry's lips. "Yeah, weirder than usual. I've hardly seen him. He spends all his time in the labs, the secret ones that are all below ground level. I caught a glimpse of him this morning and he looked strange, like he was sick or something. All he's been doing recently is working, I don't think he has been eating or sleeping at all. If he's getting this worked up and dedicated to something, it must be significant to the company. It must be something really important."  
I'm not really sure what I can say to help. "I'm sure he'll be okay, it's probably nothing serious anyway."  
Harry's smile returns. "Surely you want it to be something, though. Your article isn't going to be much of an exposé if there isn't anything to expose."  
"Hey, I could either confirm or dispel Urich's suspicions, either way my article should turn out okay."  
Harry is still holding my hands. "Your article will be awesome. I might be able to dig through the records and find some stuff that could help."  
"Harry, I know that I keep asking this, but are you absolutely sure that you're okay with this?" I ask him, gripping his hands a little tighter.  
He leans a little closer to me. "I promise, I am one hundred percent okay with you doing this." His smile gets a little wider, and his eyes sparkle in the sunlight.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Hey everyone, I thought I'd post another chapter as the one on Friday wasn't very exciting, it was more of a necessary filler chapter. Exciting things happening, enjoy - I'd really love it if you left a review!**_

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It's been a month. A month. A whole month and nothing has happened. I have not found anything. The few notes of my dad's that I have been able to find have been completely and utterly useless. They contain absolutely no information at all about any potential dealings of Oscorp's with government weapons. Harry attempted to get into Oscorp's records, but he told me that he couldn't find anything either. The deadline for my article is in three days, and if I don't have anything to give the editor, she'll most likely kick me off the paper staff. I have to come up with something. I'm on the subway home from school when I come up with an idea. It's quite possibly the stupidest idea that I have ever had. But it just might work. I depart the train at the next stop and cross the platform, getting straight onto a train heading back the way I came. Back into Manhattan. I take out my phone, intending to call Harry and tell him what I'm going to do. But then I think about it. There is no way that Harry is going to approve of this. He will almost definitely stop me from doing this. In all fairness to him, it really is a bad idea. A dangerous idea. But if I can pull it off I'll be able to write my article. I'll have the information. I exit the train at the station closest to the Oscorp tower. I cross the street and enter the lobby of the building, keeping close to the employee in front of me so that I cannot easily be seen by the receptionist. However, as I'm getting close to the elevator I hear, "Uh, excuse me, miss?" from the reception desk.

Dammit. I put on my biggest false smile and turn around. "Hi, sorry. I saw that you were busy and I didn't want to bother you."  
The receptionist evidently recognises me from the last time I was here, because she says, "Oh, you're Harry's girlfriend, aren't you?"  
I can feel myself going red. "No, no I'm not his girlfriend, but I am his friend."  
The receptionist smiles. The smile doesn't feel any more genuine that it was before. "Oh, I see. Are you here to see him?"  
I have planned for this. "Yeah, I am. We're working on a chem lab project together, he told me to meet him in the labs, the ones below ground level."  
She frowns. "The below level labs. Are you certain he told you to go to those labs, not the ones on the upper floors?"  
I force a puzzled look. "I'm pretty sure he said those ones. Something about them having the equipment that we need."  
"Well, if you're certain. You'll need to be escorted to the relevant lab, I'm not allowed to let you down there unsupervised."  
I beam at her. "Of course not, I understand."

The security guard who accompanies me is, there are no other words for it, absolutely terrifying. He can't possibly be shorter than six foot seven or eight, and he has the broadest shoulders that I have ever seen. I am positive that he could squash me flat simply by stepping on me. He escorts me in the elevator, and when we exit it he says, "Which laboratory?" in a deep booming voice.  
Ah. How am I supposed to answer this? I don't know how the labs are labelled. Letters? Numbers? American presidents (which would seem to suit Norman Osborn's ego)? I take a wild stab in the dark. "Lab number seven, I think." I mentally cross my fingers. The security guard nods and leads the way. I sigh in relief. Lucky number seven.  
It takes less than five minutes for us to reach laboratory seven. I am really thankful that it is empty. The fates are, for once, on my side. King Kong turns to me and says, "Mister Osborn does not appear to be here." He doesn't look happy.  
I think on my feet. "That's so typical of Harry," I reply with an annoying giggle. "He's probably gone to the bathroom or to get a soda or something." I pull out my phone and pretend to check it. "Oh, he's texted me, he says he'll be down in, like, two minutes." I put my phone back in my pocket so that he can't see it.  
The security guard sighs and says, "You can wait here alone, can't you? I need to get back to the lobby as quickly as possible."  
I smile at him and say, "Of course I can, he shouldn't be long. Thank you very much for showing me the way," I add, in the most sickly sweet tone I can manage.  
The guard mumbles, "You're welcome," as he leaves the room.

I wait long enough for him to have got back in the elevator before I begin to look around the lab. It's quite late, after five o'clock in the evening, so there shouldn't be too many people in the building anyway. I lower the blinds on the windows and on the doors, just in case anyone does walk past. Compared to the labs that Harry showed me, this seems quite old fashioned. Buttons and computer screens rather than glass touch-screens. It must be a building original. The first thing that I investigate is the computer at the front of the room. I am quickly foiled from getting into anything interesting though. The computer is (obviously) password protected. So I walk around the lab, looking at anything and everything of potential interest. There isn't much sitting on the counters of the lab, but I look at everything I can. A beaker full of some clear liquid that I'm ninety percent sure is nothing but water. A black box containing vials and test tubes. But at the far end of the lab is a desk, pushed into the corner so that it is more secluded than everything else in the lab. I try the drawers on the right hand side. They're locked. It seems that if I'm going to find anything of interest in this laboratory, it's going to be in these drawers. I pull a bobby pin out of my hair, whilst mentally thanking my mother for always locking the candy drawer when I was younger. Lock picking was an easily learned, incredible useful skill. It takes me no more than two minutes to weasel my way into the top drawer of the desk. It contains a folder, and nothing more. I take out the folder, wondering if I should have brought some gloves with me. I shake away the thought, I highly doubt that they'll be dusting for fingerprints. The folder is dark green and huge. It's going to take me hours to read all of this! I decide to skim through the opening few pages, it might not be anything useful, after all.

As I open the cover of the folder the first thing that I see it the word **ABANDONED** stamped across the first page. Underneath the stamp is the title of the folder: 'Enhancement and development serum'. Enhancement and development? What the hell has Norman Osborn been working on? I turn over to the next page, where there is an overview of the entire project.

_**Enhancement and Development Serum**_

_Following the recent discovery and reviving of Steven Rodgers (more commonly known as 'Captain America'), research has been done into recreating the serum that enhanced Rodgers in the 1940s. Working with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division (SHIELD), Oscorp has long been conducting experiments in an attempt to produce their own variation of this serum. This has, so far, been unsuccessful. However, the project has recently been revived, and, headed by Oscorp founder and CEO, Norman Osborn, recent attempts have proved to be promising._

I want to keep reading, but I hear a noise from outside the room. Someone is trying to open the door! As quickly and as quietly as I can I close the folder and shove it back into the drawer. I know that I don't have any time to lock the drawer, so I just push it closed and look around the lab for a hiding place. Under the desk is too obvious – I'd be seen the second that someone walked to end of the back of the room. But under the counter next to the desk there is a space underneath the sink. It faces the back wall. Unless someone actually looks underneath the sink, I should be safe there. I duck into the space, and one second later the door to the lab is unlocked, and somebody enters.  
"I don't remember locking that door," the entrant says, and I recognise Norman Osborn's voice. I can only hear one set of footsteps, so he must be talking to himself. Which is a little bit weird. I hear him walk briskly to the back of the room. Holy crap, he can only be about five feet away from me. He moves straight to the desk and takes the folder from the drawer. Luckily, he doesn't seem to register that the drawer has been unlocked. "Probably shouldn't leave this lying around, Norman," he says aloud. This whole talking to himself thing is kind of creeping me out. He must have what he came for because he starts to walk back past me, and I sigh in relief. A little too loudly. Norman stops, right next to me. I can't see anything but his legs, and I pray that he doesn't look underneath the counter. I hold my breath. "You're hearing things, Norman," he says, and then he continues walking. I hear the door shut as he leaves the room.

As soon as I am sure that Norman has left the laboratory I move from my hiding place. I practically run to the door, wrench it open, check quickly that the corridor is deserted, and run to the elevator. The seconds that I have to wait for the elevator to go up feel like millennia, and I practically shoot out of the elevator when I reach the ground floor, where I run straight into Norman Osborn. "Ah!" I yelp as I collide with his chest.  
"What the hell? Aren't you Doctor Anderson's daughter. Annie, I believe?" he says, looking down at me from his towering height.  
"Uh, yeah, I am. It's not Annie though, sir, it's Alex," I reply, flustered. Oh God, I am so dead.  
"What were you doing in those laboratories?" he asks me, frowning.  
I stick to my original lie. "I was looking for Harry, sir."  
"He's upstairs, in the apartment, where he always is."  
"Oh, sorry. I must have read his text wrong." His stare intimidates me, but I can't seem to look away.  
"Well, he's always up there. Remember that next time," he says as he walks away. I watch him leave, trying to remember how to breathe properly. Then I turn and leave the building as quickly as I can.


	10. Chapter 10

I rush home as quickly as I can. What happened in the lab with Norman has really freaked me out. When I walk through the door I fully intend to go straight to my room. I need to process the information that I read in that folder. Oscorp is making a super soldier serum. This must be what Ben Urich was talking about. My plan to go to my room is foiled, however. My dad is waiting for me. I am not given a chance to speak. "I just received a very interesting phone call," he spits at me, "From Norman Osborn."  
Oh shit.  
I attempt to defend myself, but he cuts me off. "What the fuck were you doing sneaking around the laboratories?"  
"I wasn't sneaking around," I protest, "I was looking for Harry - "  
"The fuck you were," he interrupts. "You knew that the kid wouldn't be in the labs. What were you looking for?"  
"I wasn't looking for anything, I swear," I cry. I have never been properly afraid of my father before, but he is scaring me now. "I just got lost."  
"Don't fucking lie to me you little bitch."  
"Dad, dad, are you drunk?"  
"No, I am not. What gives you the right to talk to me like that?" I believe him. He isn't drunk. He's just really, really, really pissed off. "You are in so much shit, young lady. I knew I never should have let you hang around with that moron."  
Something inside of me snaps. I am used to taking this kind of abuse from my dad, but Harry has to deal with enough from his own dad. I am not about to let my dad hurt him. "Harry is not a moron!" I shout at my dad. And once I have started I can't stop. "He is not stupid, and neither am I. I take so much crap off of you, and nothing you say is true. I am not an idiot, and I should not be a disappointment to you. So just shut the hell up about me and about Harry, because you don't know shit about either of us."

There is complete and utter silence. No-one has ever spoken to my dad like that, especially not me. I can see him working through what I have said. His face gets darker and darker. Then his hand comes out of nowhere and collides with the right-hand side of my face. The blow sends me into the door frame, and something hot runs down my face. I don't cry. I don't scream. I am too shocked. My dad looks equally as shocked as I am. No matter how angry he's been at me, he has never hit me before. I don't wait for him to say anything. I turn and run out of my house.

I run and I run until I get to the subway station. I know exactly where I am going, I need to see Harry. I don't want to do anything except see Harry. I get on the train and I am nearly at the station by Harry's building, but then I think clearly. I can't go into the Oscorp building again. If Norman sees me, he'll tell my dad, and then I'll be in even more shit. I stay on the train until the stop by Midtown High. I go the dance studio where I went with Harry after the cheerleading try-outs. I need to do something to calm me down, to get out everything that I'm feeling. Without really knowing what to do, I begin to work through a movement scale I'd learned once – an effort by the choreographer to bring more emotion into my dancing. I move through each movement slowly at first, reacquainting myself with them. Float. Punch. Glide. Slash. Dab. Wring. Flick. Press. As I become more familiar with what I am doing, I add in a little more pace, a little more movement. I begin to add half-turns and small jumps. I go right up onto my toes when I dab and flick. I incorporate an arabesque or two between moves, and soon I am using the entire studio, commanding the space. And I finally understand what my dance teacher meant about putting different kinds of emotions into my dancing, not just the joy of the dance itself. When I punch, it is my father I see. A slash is me cutting the bond between us that never existed. Inside of my wring I can feel all of the loathing I have for him. And when I press, I press it away. All of it. I can't hear the music anymore, just the sound of my blood and my thoughts. I accidentally brush my cheek and I realise that I am crying. I don't care. I use the tears. I imagine that the entire room is being filled with water. The water level is rising and I can't swim, so I am dancing. Dancing in the water, dancing on the water, hoping and praying that something will come to save me from drowning. I can feel the water on my bare feet and on my legs. It mimics the feel of my skirt as it whips around my knees when I turn. The studio lights are the hot sun that glares at me as I flail around in the imaginary water. But I haven't lost hope. I can't lose hope. Someone will come and find me.

"Alex? Are you in here?" I hear Harry's voice and I stop moving. I look at him as he comes through the door. The music has run out, and there is silence. There's a pause while we look at each other, and then I burst into tears. Harry runs straight to me and takes me in his arms. "Shhh, shhh, it's okay. Everything's okay."  
"No, it's not. It's really not," I sob into his shoulder. "How did you know I'd be here?"  
"My dad told me about how he phoned your dad. I knew you'd be in trouble so I went to your house to make sure you were okay. Your mom said that you'd run off and she didn't know where you were. I kind of just guessed that you'd be here."  
"Did she tell you what happened?" I sniff.  
"No, but I think I can guess." He pulls away so that he can look at me. "Alex, I think you need to go to the hospital."  
"No, no, I don't want to. I want to stay here."  
"Okay, we can stay here," Harry replies, brushing my hair off of my face. He giggles, "Hey, remember when you tried to teach me to dance."  
I wipe my eyes and laugh. "Yeah, you were God-awful!"  
"I was, it's true." He pauses. "Teach me now."  
"What?"  
"Come on, it'll take your mind off what happened. Teach me to dance." He grins, seeming really keen.  
"Okay then," I reply. "You have to put your hand here," I say as I position his hand on my waist. He gives a reassuring squeeze and I blush.  
"And I hold your other hand, right?"  
I smile and Harry takes my hand in his. "Yeah, that's right. But we don't have any music."  
"It doesn't matter," Harry says, looking into my eyes. "What do we do now?"  
"Well, you're supposed to lead," I say. Harry grins and he begins to lead us in an attempted waltz. He's a little clumsy and not particularly agile, but I don't care because he is holding me and because I feel safe with him. As we dance his hand on my waist moves further around my back, pulling me closer to him so that our bodies are touching. Almost unconsciously I lay my head on Harry's chest. He tries to dip me at one point, but I am still dizzy, and my feet slip from under me, and I think I am falling. But Harry comes down with me, keeping hold of me so that I don't hit the floor hard. Instead I am sitting on the ground, and Harry is next to me, his knee behind my back so that I can lean on him, and both of his arms are around me, and one of my hands is on his chest and the other rests on his shoulder. Our faces are very close together.

And then Harry kisses me. And it is wonderful. His lips are warm as they move against mine, and his arms hold me even tighter. When he breaks the kiss he says, "I've wanted to do that since we were fifteen." His eyes shine brighter than I have ever seen them.  
In lieu of a reply I lean up and kiss him again, not wanting to ever let him go. But Harry pulls away again. "Al, you really need to go to the hospital."  
"No, I don't, I'm fine," I say as I try to stand up, but the second that I'm upright I know that I'm going to pass out, but Harry is there, holding me up. "Okay," I give in. "Hospital. Maybe a good idea."  
Harry doesn't wait to be told twice. He knocks my legs from underneath me and lifts me up. I don't protest. I keep one arm around his neck and hold onto his jacket with the other hand. My head rests in the crook of his neck, and I close my eyes. Harry carries me outside and around the front of the school, where he hails a cab. He lays on the seat and climbs in the other side. The second that he is sitting next to me I try to slide over to him, but he is ahead of me. Harry pulls me to him gently as he directs the cab driver to drive us to the nearest hospital, and he lets me curl up against him. I ignore the pain in my head. I ignore the brightness of the passing street lamps. I ignore everything that's hurting me. I just sit with Harry as he holds me, and I hope that he will always be here to hold me.

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_**EEEE! It made me so happy to write the end half of this chapter. Hope you guys enjoyed it too! :) x**_


	11. Chapter 11

When I open my eyes the first thing that I see is a bright white light. I should probably think that I am dead, but I don't. Instead I get a weird flashback to the last time I went to the dentist. I blink a few times as the room swims into proper focus. When I look to my left I see Harry asleep in a chair at the side of the room. I smile. He must have only been sleeping lightly because his eyes flutter open only a few seconds after I wake up. "Hey, beautiful," he says when he sees me. "How are you feeling?" Harry asks as he crosses to me and sits on the bed.  
"Um, okay, I think. My head kind of hurts. Hold on, am I in a hospital?"  
"Yeah, Roosevelt Hospital. You had a really nasty cut on your head." Harry entwines his hand with mine. "Don't you remember last night? You fell asleep in the taxi, I was really worried you had a concussion." He pauses, looking concerned. "How much do you remember? You haven't got amnesia, have you?"  
"I remember going to the dance studio at school. I remember... the stuff that happened before that. I remember, um, I remember you dancing with me, and I remember you kissing me, which was awesome," I reply, giggling a little.  
"Damn, I was hoping that you wouldn't remember," Harry replies, "I wanted to have to remind you." He winks, being purposely cheeky.  
"Oh well, in that case," I say, equally cheekily, "I actually just realised that I don't remember any of last night, do you think you could help me?"  
Harry laughs and leans forward, so that his face is less than an inch from mine. "Yeah, I think I can." Then he closes the distance between us and presses his lips to mine. I move my hands upwards and rest one of them on his shoulder. I cup his cheek with my other hand, my thumb runs along his cheekbone. The kiss is long and deep, and beautiful.

Harry doesn't pull away from me until somebody else walks into the room. "Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?" the newcomer asks.  
Harry sits upright. "Uh, uh, no, of course not," he stammers, momentarily losing his cool, which makes me laugh. The nurse laughs with me as Harry returns to his chair, looking a little embarrassed.  
The nurse walks round to the other side of my bed. "Hi, Alex," he says, his voice warm and friendly, "I'm Nurse Patterson, I'm just going to check your bandages, if that's okay?" I nod gingerly and he proceeds. I try not to laugh as Nurse Patterson works, but Harry is making faces at me from across the room. Trying not to distract the nurse, I stealthily hold up two fingers to Harry, earning a smile and a wink from him. When Nurse Patterson is finished with my bandages he leans back and looks at me. "Alex, I need to ask you a couple of questions. Harry here said he didn't know how you got hurt. He said that you passed out before you got a chance to tell him." I make a mental note to add that to the list of things I owe Harry for. "Can you tell me what happened?" His voice is still friendly, but his expression is more serious.  
I know what the nurse is serious about. And I have no intention to tell him what actually happened. That will lead to investigations and allegations and I don't want to go through all that. I can't. Besides, I'm going to be eighteen in two months. There's no point. So I tell him a different story. People say that the way to lie convincingly is to tell a different truth. "I was dancing," I begin. "I was practising a routine and I didn't spot properly when I was spinning. I got dizzy and I fell. There's this raised platform at the front of the studio and I hit my head on it." This actually happened a few years ago. Come to think of it, it was Harry who came with me to the hospital then as well. At least I didn't black out that time.  
Nurse Patterson eyes me suspiciously, but appears to buy my story, because he says, "Alright then, be more careful next time." He smiles again and makes to leave the room. Just before he exits he turns and says, "My little girl wants to be a dancer. Is her falling something I need to worry about?"  
"Maybe, but she's probably less clumsy than me," I reply. I get a flash of what fathers are supposed to be like. Caring, worried about their kids, wanting to make sure that they're always okay. A concept foreign to both Harry and me.

Harry stays with me the whole time I am in the hospital, insisting that, "It's Saturday, it's not like I have anything important to do."  
While we are waiting for someone to come back and say that I can go home, Harry asks me what I was doing at Oscorp. "Oh, so you know about that," I reply.  
"Yeah, my dad told me that's why he phoned your dad."  
I sigh. I didn't want to tell Harry about the folder. I still don't. Until I know more about it, it isn't something that he should be worried about. "I was looking for stuff for my article." Harry sighs. "I knew you wouldn't approve; that's why I didn't tell you."  
"You're incorrigible," Harry says, but he is smiling again. "Did you at least find something useful?"  
"No," I reply, perhaps a little too quickly, but Harry doesn't seem to notice.  
Three hours later I am released, and we are sitting in a cab on the way back to my house. "Are you absolutely sure you want to go back?" Harry asks. He is sitting with his arm around me and I am leaning into him. He's lovely and warm.  
"Yeah, it's just easier that way. Don't worry, I'm not just going to pretend it didn't happen." I glance out of the window.  
We're pulling up outside the house. Harry opens the door and helps me out of the cab. I try to give him some money for it but he says, "Don't even bother thinking about it." It's useless to protest. Harry puts his hands on either side of my face and kisses me. "If anything happens," he says, "If you need anything, call me. I'll be here instantly, I promise."  
I move my arms around his neck and cling to him for a minute or two. I put my lips to his ear and whisper, "Thank you. Thank you for everything."

Harry waits until I am through the door before he gets back into the cab. I hear it drive away, and now I feel nervous. I was fine when he was here, but now I am scared. Maybe I should have asked Harry to stay with me. What if my dad tries to hurt me again? Then I'll have to tell someone. I push the thought down and focus on slowing my heartbeat. I walk into the living room. My mom, my dad and my brother are all there, watching some documentary on TV. I clear my throat to let them know that I'm there. As soon as they see me my mom and brother stand up. There is an incredibly awkward moment before she says, "Matthew, why don't we go and work on your science project?" She practically pulls my brother from the room, leaving me and my dad alone.  
"Alexandria, I didn't mean - " he starts to say, but I interrupt him.  
"Don't say anything," I say. I'm not letting him explain himself. He has no defence to this. "I don't want you to say anything to me ever again. You don't need to worry about being investigated or anything damaging your reputation. I'm not going to tell anyone what happened. I know that you meant to hit me. Don't bother denying it. But I also know that you didn't want to hit me. It just happened. I only have two conditions, and if you break either of them I will tell the first cop I see what you did to me." I don't wait for him to acknowledge my threat, I just keep talking. "One: if you ever do anything to either Matthew or Cara I will tell someone. I don't think that it's a big possibility, but I just want to make sure. Two: I don't want to have to talk to you again. Ever. As soon as I can I am going to move out, but until then I have to stay here. So I want you to pretend that I don't exist. Please. I'll just be someone who lives in your house, and nothing more."  
There is a silence while my father thinks over what I have said. "Very well," he says. "It seems as if I have no choice here." He is fighting the urge to yell. "If that is what you want, I will pretend that you don't exist."  
"Good, it shouldn't be too hard for you," I say as I leave the room and walk up the stairs, shutting the door on my father.


	12. Chapter 12

Trying to force down the anger and fear (and the small sense of triumph) that I feel I take out my phone from my pocket and call Bella, the editor of the school paper. "Hi Bella, it's Alex."  
"Alex, hi," she starts, her voice high pitched and bubbly, "Have you got that article for me?"  
"Um, no, I haven't, not yet anyway," I say apologetically. "Actually, Bella, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. I was hoping I could get an extension on the article, only like a week or so."  
Bella's voice sounds tired. She probably gets asked this all the time. "And why should I give you an extension?"  
"I was going to write the article yesterday, but I had an accident and spent the night in hospital, and so I haven't had time to write it yet."  
Bella sighs. "You've had a month to do this, Alex."  
"I know, and I'm really sorry, but I was trying to get information and the time just got away from me."  
"Alright. You have one week, but this is the only extension I'm ever going to give you. I hope you didn't get hurt too badly," Bella says, her voice a little softer.  
"Thank you so much, Bella!" She hangs up. So I have another seven days to decide what to do. I don't know if the serum I read about is anything bad, and I can't write this article without telling Harry about the folder first. Besides, I need more information about what Oscorp is doing. Which means I need to go back to Oscorp. Tomorrow is Sunday, and so there's no point in me trying to get back into Oscorp then. There'll be so few people there that I will stick out like a sore thumb. Monday, after school, is my best chance.

_I can't breathe. Why can't I breathe? There is nothing stopping me from breathing. No-one is strangling me, there is nothing weighing down on my chest. I gasp wildly, the air is thick, too thick to enter my lungs. I think I'm having a panic attack. Which is weird, because there doesn't seem to be any reason for me to have a panic attack. My eyes swim into focus as I scan my surroundings. I'm in the hallway of my house, where my dad hit me. I can see a red streak where my head hit the door-frame.  
A voice behind me says, "I am so disappointed in you, Alexandria." I turn. It's my father, standing on the stairs. He isn't yelling. I think I'd rather he was. "I suppose everyone has to deal with failure, but it is just so difficult to deal with you."  
As he takes a few steps down the stairs, I whisper, "What? What is going on?"  
"It's your fault, really, not mine," he continues, the dark expression on his face never changing. "So many distractions. The dancing. The newspapers. That boy." He inclines his head down. There is a figure lying motionless at the bottom of the stairs. His head is turned away, but I know who it is. It's Harry.  
I try to move towards him but my feet are stuck. I whisper his name, unable to raise my voice any higher. "In this family," my dad says as he reaches the bottom step, kicking Harry hard as he steps over him, "Failure is punished." He grins. "He won't be a distraction any longer."  
_My eyes snap open in the dark. The adrenaline makes me want to sit up, to react, to do something. But I force myself to lie back down. I stopped my dad from hurting me when I am awake, I am not letting him control me in my dreams. I roll over and close my eyes again, imagining Harry's arms around me until I fall asleep again.

I spend Sunday morning working on a plan to get into the Oscorp building. An old friend of my dad's works at Stark Industries. There are a couple of old photos on my dad's Facebook page. I browse through them and find a photo where his identification badge is really clear. I enlarge the photo and print it. Then I locate some of my recent passport photos and cut one so that it is the right size. I glue it over the original photo on the I.D. and then set about changing the name on the badge. Less than an hour later, I have a fairly legitimate looking I.D. badge for Stark Industries. Good. Stage one complete. I then grab my bag and head out of the house.  
There is a little fancy dress store I know of in Tribeca that sells really decent and realistic wigs for a less than extortionate price. I've gotten wigs for various plays and dances from there before. It doesn't take me long to find a waist length blonde curly wig, something that couldn't look any more different to my real hair. I try it on in the mirror, taking my glasses off as well. I don't have any contact lenses, so my vision is blurry, but I figure I am sufficiently unrecognisable. I pay for the wig and head back home. It's a pleasantly warm evening – despite it being spring – so I decide to walk for a while before I have to get the subway. After I've been walking for about twenty minutes I hear some kind of commotion coming from a few blocks away. There's a little voice in my head that tells me to just keep walking, to get home and not go towards the noise. It is incredibly easy to ignore that little voice. I turn to my left and start walking in the direction of whatever is happening. As I'm walking I hear, "Heads up, coming through!" I look up to see Spider-man swing over my head at an amazing speed.  
Wow. If Spider-man is here whatever is happening must be dramatic. I walk a little faster. If the Oscorp thing turns out to be nothing I could always report on what's happening here. As I turn the corner the scene that I find is chaotic. Smoke rises from medium size craters in the ground. Pedestrians are fleeing, motorists abandon their vehicles and run away from the intersection. I look up again, trying to find either Spider-man or the source of the terror. I find both.

Directly above the centre of the intersection there is a battle raging. Spider-man throws punch after punch at a figure atop some sort of glider, one that trails the same black smoke as whatever flew over Harry and me after Flash's party. The figure manages to throw Spider-man off of him. Spider-man slams into the side of a building, and I get my first clear look at the person on the glider. They are clad in a green and purple costume, and covering their face is a grotesque green mask, with huge eyes and a malevolent grin. Whatever it is cackles a high pitch laugh and cries, "You think that you can defeat me so easily, Spider-man? The Green Goblin will not go down without a fight!" He throws a series of orange balls into the air, which beep louder and faster until they explode in a burst of green smoke and fire.  
What the hell is going on here? I sprint to the side of the street, not particularly wanting to be caught up in the middle of the fight. Spider-man fires a web at the Goblin and uses it to launch himself back onto the glider. "Oh, a fight, is that what this is?" he quips as he performs a series of acrobatic punches and kicks. "I thought we were having a tea party."  
"Always full of something funny to say, aren't we?" snarls the Goblin, twisting and turning as he tries to grab Spider-man. "Do you ever shut up?"  
Spider-man pushes off and shoots a web to the bottom of the glider, swinging underneath and forcing the Goblin to spin upside down. "It's one of the many things that people admire about me."  
"Or hate about you," remarks the Goblin as he twists his hips, bringing the glider back into its former position.  
"I guess it depends on which side of the fence you are. Argh!" Spider-man grunts. He misses a move and the Goblin catches him. He holds Spider-man up and strikes him with some sort of electricity that seems to originate from his gloves. The the Goblin throws Spider-man to the ground. He lands next to me.

As the Goblin cackles wildly I run to Spider-man. He's breathing, but I don't think he's conscious. Perfect. "Hey, Spidey, wake up," I whisper as I shake his shoulders. I hear something land next to me. It's one of the orange ball things. The beeping it emits gets more frantic as I look at it. I act on instinct. "Oh shit!" I yell as I pick it up and throw it in the direction of the Goblin. It explodes in the air and the force throws me to the ground. I sit up and see that the bomb went off before it got close enough to do him any damage, but it has had an even worse effect on me. It attracts his attention to me. My eyes widen as his glider begins to creep towards me. I know that I don't have time to stand up and run, so I attempt to scoot backwards, anything to keep me away from the maniac. But all too soon I run out of space and my back is up against the wall of the building. A quick look to my right shows me that Spider-man is still out of action. I am on my own.

The Goblin steals his way towards me and hovers a few inches above me. He leans down so that his face is almost up against mine. "That," he spits, "Was a very unwise thing to do, my dear."  
"Yeah, I'm getting that vibe," I reply, my voice wavering. He reaches a hand out towards me, towards my throat, and I don't know whether he intends to strangle me or grab me. Luckily I don't get a chance to find out, because the Goblin is knocked aside as Spider-man swings straight into him, feet first.  
"Hey, Gobby," says Spider-man as he lands in front of me, "You want to leave innocent people out of this?"  
The Goblin laughs. "I don't think that throwing bombs at people counts as innocent. I should know."  
"Oh well, if she's throwing bombs at you that's even more reason to keep her safe."  
Spider-man launches himself at the Goblin again, but he swoops out of the way and flies back into the sky. "This isn't the end of this, we'll meet again!" he cries as he gets further and further away.  
Spider-man turns to me and extends a hand, which I take. He helps me to my feet. "Are you alright, Al – miss?" Did he just say my name? Of course he didn't, I must be hearing things.  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Thanks," I reply, brushing some of the dirt off of my clothes.  
"Are you kidding? Thank you," Spider-man says. "Without you I would have been your friendly neighbourhood spider-shrapnel."  
"Well, you're welcome," I smile, and as I push my glasses back up my nose I catch a glimpse of my watch. "Oh man, I've got to get home. Thank you again, Spider-man."  
"Hey, do you want a ride home? It's the least I can do."  
"Oh my God, are you serious?" I ask. Spider-man nods. "That would be so awesome!"  
"You're not scared of heights, are you?"  
"Nope."  
"Good," says Spider-man, and he swiftly and gently tosses me onto his back so that my arms are around his neck. "Hold on," he says, and then he shoots a web and jumps. Within seconds we are up in the air, moving from building to building with expert precision and timing. The wind whips past us and I scream with excitement. And I feel free, freer than I have felt in a long time.


	13. Chapter 13

School on Monday is just the same as always. Well, mostly, anyway. The main difference to my normal school day is that, instead of a high five or a platonic hug, when Harry sees me he walks straight over to me, takes my face in his hand and kisses me hard. I manage not to do anything stupid like fall over. Someone around us cat-calls and we both hold up our middle fingers to them, without breaking the kiss. The bell for homeroom rings all too soon, and so Harry and I pull apart and start walking, my hand in his. "How are you feeling?" Harry asks. "How's your head?"  
"Better," I reply, "But I'm pretty sure it's going to scar." I attempted to cover the cut on my forehead with make-up, but it hasn't had much of an effect.  
"Never mind, it might make you look tough and scary," Harry laughs.  
I grin and say, "Do I not usually look tough and scary?"  
"Yes, of course you do. Absolutely terrifying."  
Nothing of any importance happens during the rest of the day, apart from when Peter is forced to pay Gwen two dollars when they see us together in homeroom. "We had a bet going on you two," Gwen explains at lunch.  
"Why? Did Peter not think that me and Harry would make a good couple?"  
"Oh, it wasn't that," Peter says. "I said it would take at least three months, Gwen said one."

Lucky for me, Harry has to stay at school when the last bell rings – Peter is tutoring him to try and improve his grades in math and science – so I don't have to worry about running into him at Oscorp. With less than a week to write and hand in my article I have to get any information I can today if I want to keep my place on the paper. Before I exit the subway station I nip into the public bathroom there (which may have been a mistake; it's not the cleanest of changing rooms). I plan to infiltrate the Oscorp laboratories through the use of a cunning disguise, a fake Stark Industries I.D. badge and, the _piece de resistance_, a phony British accent. I have smuggled my supplies in the bottom of my backpack all day. I change my jeans and sneakers for a far smarter pencil skirt and blazer that I borrowed/stole from my mother, and a pair of my sister's high heels. Thank God all the women in my family are the same size. I pull my short hair back and tuck it into the blonde wig I bought yesterday, and I take off my glasses. I then pin the fake badge onto my blazer and squint at my reflection. I look like a model employee of Tony Stark's. Good. Mission number one accomplished. I put anything of value (including my glasses) into a small black clutch bag which I've also brought with me, sling my backpack onto my back and walk out of the bathroom. The sun has disappeared since I left school, and the sky is overcast. I cross the street to the Oscorp building, which looks darker and more intimidating than usual. Before I walk through the glass doors I throw my backpack into a bush at the side of the doors. There's nothing in there but a few easily replaceable notebooks, so it's not the end of the world if anyone takes it.

I am nervous as I walk through the sliding glass doors, but I am sure that it doesn't show. I walk to the reception desk with my head held high, swinging my hips as I walk for good measure. I look confident. I look important. The receptionist manning the desk is not the same one as on Friday, it's a guy, older than me but still quite young. He blinks a few times before he speaks to me. "Hi, miss. What can I help you with?" he stammers. Wow, I really must look important.  
I smile at him. The time I got bored in the summer vacation and so spent hours perfecting a British accent has finally come in handy. "Hello, my name is..." I quickly think of the most English sounding name I can. "Felicity. Felicity Smith. I work for Mr Tony Stark and I have an appointment with Mr Osborn."  
"Can I see some sort of I.D. please?" the receptionist asks. "I'm Mark, by the way."  
"Hi, Mark," I say, batting my eyelids and leaning over the desk a little as I hand over my badge. I am a little worried that my hair in the badge is short and brown, rather than the blonde wig I'm wearing. But Mark barely glances at the badge. He's too busy trying to see down my shirt. I fight not to roll my eyes.  
"That's all in order," he says, still not looking at my eyes. "Do you need someone to show you the way?"  
"No, I'm sure I can manage." I take back the badge and straighten up. "See you around, Mark," I say, winking at him. I hear him drop his pen as I turn around. Honestly. No-one questions me as I walk through the building's lobby to the elevator. The elevator car is empty, and I make sure to hit the same button as the security guard did on Friday. I need to get back into the same lab. When I exit the elevator I follow the corridor past various doors and windows until I find lab number seven. It is empty again. Good. That makes things easier. When I have entered the lab I head straight for the desk. I don't lock the door or pull down the blinds this time, that would look suspicious. Right now, I look like someone who belongs here, and I intend to keep it that way. I walk briskly to the back of the lab, but the desk is gone. Dammit – where am I supposed to look now? I walk another lap of the room, looking for another possible source of information. At the front of the room, next to the password protected computer, there is some kind of control panel for some of the machines in the room. I walk over and start to examine it. Whoever was last here has left a key in the panel. A vast difference from the modern technological security systems used in the rest of the building, in keeping with the lab's dated technology. I turn the key, expecting and preparing for a noise or a warning to sound, but the room remains silent. A few of the buttons have lit up, so those are the ones I look at first. I'm not used to having long hair, and the wig drapes over my shoulder and I can't see the panel, so I just pull it off and shake out my real hair. I also dig my glasses out of my clutch so that I am no longer squinting through a blurry haze. I look like me again, but it doesn't really matter at the moment. I'm not very practised in wearing high heels, and as I lean over to get a better look at the far side of the panel I overbalance and fall, accidentally hitting one of the buttons as I go down.

At first, I don't think that anything has happened, but as I shrug off my shoes and get to my feet again, I see a panel on the wall move. "No way," I say out loud as I put my shoes, bag and wig on the table next to me. Barefoot, I take a few steps closer to the gap in the wall. Although it is dark in there, I can see that there is a flight of stairs leading to an even lower level. "This is insane," I whisper to myself as I descend the staircase. "It's like something out of a movie." I can't find a light switch, and it's almost pitch black, so I have to grope along the wall and tread carefully to make sure I don't fall down the stairs. Thank God I took my shoes off. At the bottom of the staircase the room is also in darkness, but I feel a light switch as I run my hands over the wall. A dim greenish light floods the room. There are various machines and weird looking instruments hung on the wall of the room, including a strange looking glider thing that looks really familiar, though I can't quite place it. The centre of the room is occupied by a large counter, upon which sit several test tube and vials, some of which are full. There is also a bunch of syringes and needles lying on the edge of the counter. On the far side of the room is a tall cabinet, sort of like a closet. Almost involuntarily, I begin to walk over to it, hoping it will give me some clue as to what this room is for. I pull open the door of the cabinet, and it comes open easily.

The grotesque grin of the Green Goblin's mask stares back at me. I shriek and fall backwards. The Green Goblin's costume is hung up in the cupboard. Now I realise where I recognise the glider from. And for a moment I don't understand what's going on. If the costume and the glider are here, then the Goblin has originated from Oscorp, so it must be an Oscorp employee. I feel pressed in by the silence, except I can hear my own heartbeat. And, I'm pretty sure it's inside my head, but I can almost hear the horrible sound of the Goblin's crazed cackle as well. I drag myself to my feet and stumble backwards, backing into the counter in the underground room's centre. I feel something sharp dig into the palm of my hand. One of the needles? I certainly hope not, but my eyes are stuck on the Goblin costume and I can't make them move to check. Every second stretches out as my brain goes into overdrive. I am really trying not to panic, but what else can I do? I force my legs to move, moving to my right around the counter, still not able to take my eyes off of the costume. The mask is leering at me, silently laughing at my fear. I'm not sure whether it's the counter running out or the adrenaline caused by looking at the mask which causes it, but I suddenly snap out of my trance-like state. I turn sharply, intending to run back up the stairs, out of the lab, out of the building altogether. But I can't. I can't because the second I turn around I slam straight into somebody. One of their hands shoots from their side and grabs me by the throat. I try to scream, but no sound comes out. My attacker lifts me off of the ground, my legs kicking frantically. My eyes meet the sickly green gaze of Norman Osborn. He grins maniacally at me. "Should've known that you'd come poking around here again, my dear."  
I try to speak, but his grip on my throat is too tight and my words can't get through. Norman laughs, a deeper, somehow more sinister sound than the Goblin's cackle. My hands are curled around his wrist as I push against him, but he just laughs harder at my feeble attempt.  
Norman releases his grip on my neck and I drop to the floor. Immediately I try to scrabble to my feet and run, but his foot sends me reeling back to the ground. "Aw, that's so sweet," he coos at me. "Do you think I'd actually let you go now that you know my dirty little secret?"  
I look up at him from the floor, one hand on my thigh where he kicked me. I don't dare stand up again. "_Your_ secret?" I say. "What do you mean your - " Then it hits me. The Goblin isn't any old Oscorp employee, it's Norman Osborn himself. "Oh."  
"With it now, are you?" barks Norman. "You're really not the brightest spark." He stoops down and pulls me up again, by the upper arms this time. He lifts me so that I am sitting on the counter and he pins me there, his hands on the top of my legs. I am really panicking now. Norman leans closer and puts his forehead up against mine. I try to move away but he removes his hands from my thighs and puts them around my back, pulling me into him. "Where do you think you're going?" he purrs.

I snap. I reach out to my right and grab the first thing that comes to hand. It's a vial of something, some purple liquid. I smash it against Norman's head and he reels backwards, away from me. I leap off of the bench and run as fast as I can, up the stairs, out of the lab, into the elevator. The second the elevator reaches the ground floor I flee through the lobby and out of the building, pausing momentarily to pick up my backpack. I run back to the subway station and change in the bathroom, thinking that if Norman comes after me I need to be as unrecognisable as possible. Then I get the first train back home, praying that the Green Goblin doesn't follow me there.

* * *

_**Well. That was dramatic. For reference, the Goblin's costume and glider etc. are based on the orginal 'The Amazing Spider-man' designs. The physical appearance of Norman and Harry are based on how they look in the 'Ultimate Spider-man' comic books. As always, I would love a review! :) xx**_


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